Outtakes: Blue Magic
by Tellur
Summary: A folder for all those snippets that didn't make it into Blue Magic. Warning: Unbeta'd, pointless, and/or rambling.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Harry Potter or Mass Effect, sadly.

**AN:** Sometimes a scene doesn't work out and then you sit there, having written ~2-3k words, that nobody but you (and your beta) will ever read. It's not that the piece is bad - if it was then good riddance - just… it doesn't fit, it holds up the narrative needlessly, or some other reason.

In this small repository I'll post those snippets that for one reason or another didn't make it into the main story of Blue Magic. Please be aware that there's a reason why they got cut. They are also mostly unbeta'd. Don't expect them to be on the same level as the main story. That said, unless they directly contradict the main story - or I specify otherwise - they can be considered 'canon'.

This first piece happens during Chapter 15 (Christmas in Harry's first year at Hogwarts). It was initially conceived to give Hermione a couple of clues to figure out what's going on.

* * *

**Tea at the Grangers'**

* * *

_Sunday, December 22, 1991  
15:00  
Granger Home_

When Hermione opened the door for Harry and Liara and welcomed them into her home, she couldn't help but be astonished how graceful both of them looked and moved. She was used to Harry slouching when he was bored or his subdued power he could exude when it suited him, that wasn't quite in tune with an eleven year old boy. And Liara was on a level entirely her own, though Hermione couldn't quite shake the memory when the Asari had entered the bathroom and crushed the Troll's neck.

Her parents stood behind her and soon pleasantries were exchanged and they moved to the sitting room for tea. If Hermione expected something strange to happen, she was soon sorely disappointed. Liara obviously knew how to socialize in a formal setting, even if her mannerisms sometimes betrayed that she hadn't learned in British society. Still, her lapses were minor and Hermione wasn't even sure her parents noticed.  
Harry had also obviously received some training, just like Hermione had, but for him it was evident that it was slightly forced. His natural charm and youth excused him however.

"So, Dr. T'Soni, our daughter told us you are a doctor? What's your speciality? General medicine?" Gaius Granger asked Liara after some meaningless small talk.

"Oh no, I'm not that kind of doctor," Liara replied with a small, charming laugh. "I'm an archaeologist, though I hold some other minor degrees as well."

"Really? You must be quite gifted then, multiple degrees at such a young age," Hermione's mother said with some admiration.

"Oh I'm a bit older than I appear, I'm afraid," Liara deflected modestly, but Hermione took notice, especially since Harry snickered silently as if Liara's age was some inside joke. Hadn't he told her Liara was still young? She wanted to ask how old Liara was exactly but it would have been terribly rude of her.

"Archeology you say?" her father perked up and Hermione almost groaned. She knew what was coming. "I dabble a bit myself, though I'm just an interested amateur…"

"Hermione, why don't you show Harry the house," her mother whispered conspiratorially. She too knew the signs. "Didn't you say you wanted to go through the games anyway?"

Hermione's eyes lit up and she smiled in gratitude. She grabbed Harry's hand and with a quick 'come with me' she bodily pulled the slightly struggling boy after her and out of the room.

"What's the rush Hermione?" Harry asked confused as he stumbled after her.

"You wouldn't have liked staying there," Hermione muttered darkly. "My father can go on and on about Great-Uncle Harold's collection. He was an Egyptologist in the 19th century, you know."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Harry protested.

"Trust me, it's dreadfully boring," Hermione stated with authority. "It's not even a particularly good collection."

In the end Harry just shrugged and followed Hermione as she led the way to her bedroom.

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously, pointing at Hermione's computer, as the girl piled various games on her bed.

"That's a computer," she answered. "You know, a machine that…"

"I know what a computer is, Hermione," he interrupted her upcoming lecture. "But isn't it kinda… big?"

"And how small would you make it? The size of a watch? That's just science fiction," she replied with a laugh, but stopped as soon as she noticed Harry fingering his own watch nervously. _Interesting_, she thought.

Going through the games took almost no time at all. There weren't that many in the first place and about half of them were in French anyway. Hermione explained somewhat embarrassed that the only time she got to play any of them was when her French cousins stayed with them over the summer.

"So what do you want to do now?" Hermione asked after she had noted down the last game to owl Dean and Seamus so they could coordinate who brought which game.

"Dunno," Harry replied with another shrug. Now that it was only them he was his usual laid back self.

"We could watch a movie," she offered, not really used to having a friend over. From what he had told her this was a new situation for Harry as well.

"Sounds good, which ones do you have?" he asked, quickly warming to the idea.

"Let's see. How about this one?" she said, holding up a VHS case depicting a stick figure on a cliff hit by lightning.

"Short Circuit? I haven't seen that one, so why not?" Harry agreed.

After Hermione had inserted the tape, making sure it had been rewinded, she settled down next to Harry, sitting on her legs. Apparently she had chosen right, because Harry was captivated from the start.

"I think I know what this movie is about," he said after about twenty minutes or so. "This AI, Number 5, is trying to gain the help of those kids while the military hunts him down. But in the end he's going to be destroyed."

"That's horrible, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed appalled. "Number 5 is the good guy. He can't die!"

"Sure, he's nice at the moment, which makes this movie actually pretty good, but at some point something is going to happen and he turns on everyone, including the kids," Harry said dismissively. "It's unavoidable."

"Well this one doesn't," Hermione replied defiantly. "Just because he's a machine doesn't mean he has to turn bad."

"Okay, maybe he wouldn't for a couple of years, or even a century, but he's a machine. They can make themselves smarter, they never forget and live forever. At best they become detached and see us as bugs. At worst they hold a grudge and try to kill us all."

Hermione wanted to argue, but the way Harry talked reminded her of their Biotics lessons. Usually Harry was perfectly willing to discuss magic with her - or almost anything else really. They would argue back and forth how a spell might work and how it could be used differently, but this was different. Harry wasn't _arguing_ with her, he was _telling_ her, as if he already knew the truth. But AIs were still hypothetical, right?

"What do you know about AIs?" she challenged. "You know something, right?"

"Nevermind," he mumbled, suddenly not looking at her. Hermione had seen this reaction before whenever she came close to something he didn't want to talk about, something concerning 'The Secret', as Hermione referred to it in her mind - capital letters and quotation marks and all.  
She had learned not to press too much or Harry would not talk to her at all for hours, so for now she decided to drop it. It was another piece of information she diligently collected and would try to fit into the puzzle.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: This is a sort of teaser to the next regular chapter of _Blue Magic_, which hopefully is finished soon.  
Besides some RL stuff happening that left me no capacity to actually write much, I got caught up in a rookie mistake: I tried to make children's book logic work for adult fiction. Apparently I forgot my own analysis and advice from last chapter.

I tried very hard to justify the clusterfuck (from an adult perspective) that was first year and it didn't work particularly well. I did find a somewhat plausible explanation but it was becoming very long winded and I admit it is a bit contrived.

Therefore I will only brush over it in the main story, having Liara back off on the Stone-issue slightly.

Anyway, since I didn't want to let all that pondering go to waste, here's a quick piece I threw together that deals with what the hell Dumbledore was thinking when he placed the stone in a school and set the traps.  
Be aware that I don't believe in an all-knowing Dumbledore. He not only can make mistakes, he also doesn't have all the information right from the start.

The Dumbledore here is slightly more mellow than the one from the previous chapters. Blame it on the time of year.

The last part is a bit of a bonus to keep things from being 100% Harry Potter. It's going to be slightly smutty in a non-explicit way (don't worry, it doesn't involve Dumbles) so be warned.

The first part with Dumbledore happens immediately after the last chapter of Blue Magic (_Answers_). The second part will happen midway through the next but does not directly influence it.

* * *

Dumbledore was sitting in one of the stuffy chairs in front of his office fireplace staring into the flames, occasionally sipping his mulled wine.  
It was Hogmanay and like every year since he had become headmaster he had lead the fire procession around the castle only two hours ago, until Hogwarts was entirely engulfed in iridescent flames. Even now the dying flames blazing through the windows painted a kaleidoscope of colours onto the walls of his office. Now and again the old headmaster would absentmindedly beckon at the fireplace and a fiery animal would hop out and dance over his fingers, never burning him. One that appeared repeatedly was a rabbit with deer antlers and other body parts of different animals; a Wolpertinger as Albus knew it was called, or a Crumple-Horned Snorkack as Xenophilius Lovegood liked to call them. It wasn't a real magical animal, just muggle-imagination, but for that no less fascinating. Of course nobody else in magical Britain would suspect a thing. That thought made him chuckle as the strange creature made of flame hopped from his hand and back into the fire.

Fire had always been a specialty of Albus Dumbledore. It was no wonder that it had been the first of the classic alchemical elements he had mastered so very long ago under the tutelage of Nicholas Flamel.

Watching the fire the old wizard's mind was wandering, retrospection coming easily to someone as old as him, especially given the time of the year. Dumbledore had made many mistakes over the last century - he was aware of that and didn't make many excuses for them - but in age he had learned that while many things were not _everything_ was his fault. Still, from time to time he let himself reflect and wallow in self-doubt.

The last year had been difficult politically. Minister Bagnod had finally retired and the Wizengamot couldn't decide on a replacement. Bagnod had been a strong, moderate minister but there was still nobody from that faction that could replace her - and truth be told she had milked the popularity and apologist sentiments after the war. The conservatives, who had suffered greatly in the aftermath of the war, were starting to gain traction again and had put forth their own candidate, a particularly odious witch who thankfully had no real hope to win. It was obviously a ploy to get someone weak and malleable but all around acceptable in place - only to be corrupted in due time.  
Albus was just thankful that Bagnod had kept their bargain and didn't pressure him into candidating. He had no interest in becoming Minister of Magic and was quite glad that he had managed to talk her into serving another term after Crouch became ineligible, while he took over as Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump - two mostly ceremonial positions he could live with.  
Why couldn't they accept that he didn't want the post of minister?

Politics aside - or maybe they were connected? - the attack on Harry Potter during his first Quidditch match was worrying. Dumbledore had no illusions that many Death Eaters had escaped justice after the war, thanks to that thrice damned _Imperius_ curse; but better to let ten guilty go free than subject one single innocent to the horrors of Azkaban.

Dumbledore had gone over the attendees of the game, looking for exonerated Death Eaters. Ludo Bagman had been there, of course, but he had only ever been accused of passing on sensitive information. Dumbledore believed his claim of not knowing that Rookwood was working for the other side. Nobody had known until Karkaroff had implicated him.  
Besides, Bagman wasn't capable of the kind of magic necessary to curse a broom mid-flight, right in front of hundreds of watchers. The same applied to most other suspects, except for one: Lucius Malfoy.

Yes, Lucius would have both the skill - barely - and impetus necessary. He might not have lost as much as other acquitted Death Eaters, but Dumbledore knew that the Malfoys had long sought a place in the Wizengamot; a goal that had finally been in reach with Lucius' marriage to Narcissa Black. Now it would not see completion for another generation at least. As a confirmed Death Eater - even though allegedly under the _Imperius_ curse and therefore acquitted - Lucius was forevermore barred from the Wizengamot or any higher position in the ministry than clerk.  
It did not, however, mean that he was rendered politically fangless. He still had his money after all.

Dumbledore would have to see what he could do to keep the man in check, but he had to be careful. Malfoy was still well connected. It especially galled the Headmaster that Malfoy still remained one of the governors of his school on the technicality that it was not a government position.

It seemed that the period of peace that had followed the downfall of Voldemort was coming to an end. There was a new shadow lurking over Britain, possibly imported from one of the colonies or the continent. Dumbledore was uneasy because if not for the failed theft of the Philosopher's Stone he wouldn't have known. With Voldemort he had been prepared at least somewhat by keeping an ear open after having suspicions all the way through the young man's school years. Also, having been Tom Riddle's teacher he had known the man and could make reasonable guesses at the monster. With this one Dumbledore was in the dark.

Dark Lords, Dumbledore had found, followed a certain pattern, but this new one broke it in slight, but meaningful ways.  
They started as loners, standing apart from their peers. Although often sociable and charming enough, they seldom made any _true_ friends, merely acquaintances that they let believe they were valued friends - and didn't he know _that_!  
They were generally considered gifted students above reproach, unless they slipped, like Grindelwald had - and even he had only been expelled but not banished. After school they usually worked a menial job or drifted around, which left them plenty of free time to pursue their studies into the Dark Arts. Often their paying occupation allowed them access to powerful or rare artefacts and books. Rarer, but still occasionally, they worked in a profession that taught them useful skills like curse breaking or enchanting. No matter what they did, after a short span of years, seldom more than five, they would leave to 'tour the world', especially to visit the wilder, darker parts. It was at this point they truly started slipping down their dark path.

It was difficult to follow their trail after this point, but not completely impossible. They generally sought ways to increase their power: rituals, forbidden or forgotten magic, artefacts of power like the wand that was currently in Dumbledore's possession. Things, in short, that were either famed - and therefore well hidden and protected - or not readily accessible in the more civilized parts of the magical world where asking after them alone could quickly bring unwanted scrutiny upon the asker.  
Uniformly, they did their searching alone. The might have surrounded themselves with a small circle of like minded individuals during their school years, but they did not tolerate anyone else having the same powers as they did. Their former associates might very well form the seed of their future cabal, but that was for later. For now the budding Dark Lords worked in solitude.

Oddly enough, the Philosopher's Stone had never been a target for Dark Lords in that early stage. Later they might covet it but more out of a sense of general entitlement. Dark Lords were generally disinterested in, even dismissive of money. They took what they wanted - Dark Lords weren't known for paying their bills - or tasked followers with procuring what they could not take directly.  
Those that relied overly on gold earned their disdain. They considered them weak and easily controlled through their greed or reliance on their fortune.  
Not that greedy Dark Lords didn't exist of course. They just tended to be discovered and dealt with earlier. If there was one unifying motivation across the magical nations and political inclinations it was money. A thieving Dark Lord might find himself without any competent or well connected followers, leaving only the dregs of society as potential recruits.

The Elixir of Life similarly didn't interest them, at least at first. Most, if not all Dark Lords dream of immortality - it was something of a defining characteristic of theirs actually - but the Elixir offered only eternal youth. While that might appeal to the elderly, Dark Lordery was generally a young peoples business - they were more concerned with the indestructibility aspect of immortality. Eternal youth would come in time. There was no reason to tip their hand too early by going after one of the more famous and visible artefacts.  
Besides, there were other ways to prolong one's life, if one was scrupulous enough.

Besides, the Stone was well protected. Nicolas and Perenelle had long ago managed to establish themselves on an independent island in the Channel, not trusting any country in Europe to leave them alone. With both being from a different time when the view on magic wasn't quite as divided into black and white, the wards on that place were downright frightening, perhaps lacking the raw strength of Hogwarts' but more than making up in nastiness.  
Of course there was no magic that couldn't be undone, but short of a large team of skilled wizards - a veritable army in their world - there was no hope to break through in a reasonable amount of time.  
Not that this kept people from trying. Nicolas took it as a point of pride that there was at least one serious attempt each decade and he was even known to invite some of the more genteel of the would-be thieves for dinner, provided they showed skill and survived. One even became his apprentice, two or three hundred years ago.

There had not been an army of wizards present in late spring when the wards on the Flamels' home almost came crashing down. There had been only one hooded figure, recklessly throwing magic around until he was scared away towards England at the last minute by Albus Dumbledore's arrival, who was responding to his old master's call for help. Nicolas was a gifted wizard but he wasn't half the fighter Dumbledore was, nor did he have the reputation of having gone toe to toe with two Dark Lords, defeating one and holding at bay the other.

Nobody had ever come as close as this mysterious man had. The only way that a single wizard could have was by either eroding the wards over a long period of time - which would have been noticed - or by enhancing himself in ways only possible through heinous rituals, at which point he was almost irreversibly on the way towards becoming a Dark Lord.

There was of course some residual doubt, but that vanished after the thief had managed to penetrate Gringotts, coincidentally implicating Quirinius Quirrell - who could not be the mastermind himself as he lacked the necessary skill, drive, and opportunity - but certainly a henchman.  
What worried Albus was that not only was this new potential Dark Lord very capable, he also deviated from the usual norm. He obviously realized that wealth could be a form of power and was not afraid to seek it. He was capable of subtlety and knew when to retreat - something not all Dark Lords were known for, especially once they had attained enough power to try such a feat as demolishing the Flamels' protections.  
He had also started gaining followers far earlier than usual or at least far more quietly than others. Usually the magical governments around the world were on a lookout for potential trouble and quite aware when someone was gathering a following, even if they weren't always in a position - or willing - to do anything about it. As Supreme Mugwump, Albus would had at least heard _something_.  
Well something more substantial than some unspecified darkness in Albania which was not completely out of order, given the troubles that plagued the muggle Balkan states.

Dumbledore feared that this wasn't an infant Dark Lord at all, but rather one that had been acting in complete shadow for a long time, with the single follower he had been able to uncover only the tip of the iceberg.

Dumbledore was very worried indeed.

If truly there was a new Dark Lord, the timing couldn't have been worse. Britain hadn't fully recovered from Voldemort yet - especially the colonies were restless - and was still under pressure from its international rivals: France, Russia, and Bulgaria; a leftover from both Grindelwald and Voldemort.  
It was unclear what the agenda of Quirrell's master was, towards which extreme he leaned, but at the moment it mattered little. Either way would lead to ruin.  
Voldemort had only been a symptom and neither the ministry nor the Wizengamot had managed to truly treat the disease - not for lack of trying on Dumbledore's part. There was still fertile ground for this kind of bigotry.  
The opposite extreme, in contrast, would bring international scrutiny upon them, as many countries felt that Britain didn't take the Statute of Secrecy seriously enough, especially in regards to the muggleborn. While everyone agreed that Voldemort was a menace and his views too extreme, they also agreed that Britain was generally too lax, too closely involved with the muggle population.

Then there was the issue of Harry Potter.

When Harry had vanished four years ago, Albus had feared the worst. He had been half convinced that the boy had been taken by someone that believed in Voldemort's dogma. Perhaps the blood protection Dumbledore had augmented and tied to Harry's aunt hadn't been quite as secure as he believed - he had even contemplated the possibility that Petunia Evans wasn't Lily's sister by blood. He was half convinced that if Harry ever surfaced again - he was still alive, that much was certain at least - he would have been raised to be the old Dark Lord's replacement; or as the first public victim of the next.

But the worst didn't happen. Harry was alive, happy, and certainly not dark. And while wariness was still prudent as their intentions weren't yet revealed, Dumbledore felt a deep gratitude towards the T'Sonis for rescuing Harry and giving him the care he needed to undo what happened to him as his relatives' ward.  
He was even more grateful because while he hadn't known exactly what Harry had to endure, he had known from the moment he left the boy on his relatives' doorstep that he likely would have at least a lonely childhood - most that were raised in the muggle world did.  
He should have taken a greater interest, watched more closely. But he had not, had failed another child under his care.

Despite what some people thought, Dumbledore rarely plotted and schemed, especially with his students' lives. In many things he was a reactionary, something that had cost society greatly in the past.  
Harry of course was something of an exception. Albus felt responsible for him, more than for his other students, not only because he felt guilt for the abuse the child had suffered at his relatives' hands, but also because he should have done more to protect his family in the first place. He should have insisted on being made the secret keeper. It had only been due to fortuitous circumstance that the worst had been averted and the war ended practically overnight.

He did have a preference for young Harry's future, but he would never force the boy to anything, merely offering guidance. For now Albus was content letting him be a child and watch over him. Perhaps a little nudge would be required from now and then, but wasn't that his role as Headmaster anyway?  
Later, after Harry's time at Hogwarts and if the boy displayed any inclination, he would offer to become his mentor. It would be good having someone carry on his legacy and perhaps even surpass him.  
Unlike Dumbledore, who albite respected as an academic and undisputed war hero was seen as a political upstart - and an at times inconvenient rabble rouser - who had went far beyond his station, Harry had the potential to have it all. He already had the favour of the common people, his schoolwork was exemplary - especially for someone that had no prior contact to the magical world - and perhaps most importantly, compared to Dumbledore, Harry had the proper ancestry to be truly effective in the political arena. Perhaps Harry could be the one to usher in a new age for at least magical Britain.

There was, of course, the pesky situation regarding Voldemort. Ever since Halloween '81 Dumbledore was uneasy.  
It was well known to him that Voldemort, like many Dark Lords before him, had strived for immortality and even claimed to have gone further than any before. It was also no real secret that Voldemort was not truly dead - again, hardly an unusual situation. Other Dark Lords before him had remained as spirits or various other forms after their bodies' demise. It was generally a small concern as they were all but powerless in that state and in time would fade away into nothingness anyway. None had managed to return so far and there was no real indication that Voldemort's boast had any substance.

However, there was still the prophecy to consider. Albus didn't think very highly of divination and had made his feelings known many times - at least in private. Prophecies were real enough, he supposed, but there was a reason why they often took a prominent role in Greek tragedies - they had the tendency to invite disaster due to their ambiguous nature. Trying to circumvent them or force a specific outcome was folly, but neither could they be completely ignored, once heard.  
The magical community had long ago decided that real prophecies were just too unpredictable - and wasn't that pure irony - to act upon and most nations went to incredible lengths to keep them suppressed.  
Still, there was a widespread fascination with the art of divination and many considered it a true art. It was after all just human nature to worry about the future and perhaps for some divination brought them comfort. Not for Albus though, the thought that somehow the future was set in stone - that fate was more than just a scapegoat - was unsettling. It brought free will into question and that was truly a slippery slope.  
Thankfully, no prophecy - the only indisputable form of divination - did truly rob anyone of the freedom to choose their own destiny, although it might not always seem that way to the subjects of the prophecy.

Dumbledore's problem with this particular prophecy was that from a certain viewpoint, it was of yet unfulfilled. While one could certainly make a case that Harry had vanquished the Dark Lord and although by all accounts Voldemort was still around somehow, his current existence could hardly be termed living.

At least as far as everyone knew, that's what transpired that night, and what they would conclude, if Dumbledore told anyone about the prophecy - something that he would never do.

Albus didn't know exactly what happened that fateful night but he could make a few educated guesses. It was clear that Lily Potter had done a blood and soul ritual on Harry, sacrificing herself for her son. Although Dumbledore did not know the particularities of the ritual she used, logically it was this that helped Harry survive that night. But didn't that mean that in truth it was Lily's hand that killed the Dark Lord? Could he even considered dead, or was he at least technically still alive? If so, wasn't that a _direct_ contradiction of the prophecy, something that to Albus' knowledge never happened?  
Did the spectre of the prophecy still hang over Harry?  
Common sense said that Voldemort was gone for good, but Dumbledore's intuition told him otherwise.

Perhaps, Dumbledore thought with a chuckle, sometime in the future Harry Potter would perform a banal and completely unrelated act that finally severed Voldemort's tenuous link to this world, thereby killing him for good and fulfilling his prophecied destiny. Stranger things had happened in the realms of prophecy and depending on how exactly Tom Riddle had tried to make himself immortal, all that might be required was for Harry to smash the right bottle of blood.

While such a completely random outcome was indeed possible, Albus still worried that if the prophecy was still in play - and he had the nagging feeling that it did - it wouldn't be that easy. If Albus was completely honest that was another reason for him to offer his mentorship and his need to keep the boy close at hand.

But hopefully that prophecied confrontation was still far in the future and with any luck Harry would not have to deal with it until he was a wizard in his prime - if at all. In the meantime Dumbledore would stay vigilant.

Having given due consideration to the past and the far future, Dumbledore decided to come back to the present and immediate future. Despite having brushed off Miss T'Soni's accusation concerning his housing of the Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts, the ancient Headmaster wasn't above treating criticism seriously.

Dr. T'Soni had a point, he admitted. The presence of the Stone represented a danger to the school and its students. Albus had been aware of this before, had considered it quite extensively in fact when he implemented his plan, and he believed that he had taken adequate precautions.

The yet unknown thief's agent - Quirinius Quirrell - had been watched from the start, yet he still managed to let loose the troll. A potentially disastrous situation to be sure, but Albus was convinced that the man had only wanted a distraction for an exploratory visit to the Charms Corridor.  
The nature of that distraction was worrisome, as it betrayed a certain amount of indifference towards the lives of the students, but as a teacher, Quirrell was limited in the actions he could take against them.  
Hogwarts was rather protective of her students after all.

If anything that near-disaster made the students safer. The fallout from the public and the ministry had been considerable, only augmented by the attack on Harry mere days after Halloween. It had not been easy to prevent an official investigation, and another incident would surely see the Aurors coming to Hogwarts. Quirinius had actually blanched when he was told and had been subdued for days afterwards.

Obviously should that happen the Stone would be gone even before the first owl was sent towards London - something that would not be in the thief's best interest. As much damage a Dark Lord could do with the Stone, it paled to what would happen if it ever came into the hands of the Ministry. Unlike his colleagues, Albus was quite aware of the concept of inflation and how it could wreak havoc with a nation's economy.  
Dumbledore doubted that either the Wizengamot or the various Ministry department's would be able to restrain themselves in face of the possibility to make budgets a thing of the past.

No, his reasoning, his motivation, was still sound. For once Dumbledore would be proactive and with a little bit of luck the threat of this new Dark Lord would end before it truly began. That surely was worth a little temporary, controlled danger, was it not?

What could Quirrell do anyway? He had tried putting the students in danger as a distraction and it would not work a second time. The public outcry would push the Stone out of his reach. As a further precaution Albus had directed Severus to directly confront the Defence Professor, posing as a potential rival for the stone. Knowing that at least someone had seen through him would curtail any overt moves.

By holding a student hostage he would effectively declare himself, alienate potential future allies, and all for a remote chance that he could get a clean getaway with the stone.  
Still, it was a potential danger but one that Albus felt he had in hand. The trick was not to completely discouraging the man - or making him desperate. As long as he and his master felt that they could get to the stone under their own power they would try to stay in the shadows for a little longer.

The only other danger was if Quirrell tried to use one of the students to get through the traps and to the stone, but Dumbledore was again confident to have covered that possibility as well. The more promising seventh year students were kept track of and even if one slipped their net, the traps were carefully selected not to be too dangerous, as they were designed to deter, hinder, or incapacitate.

The cerberus was really the only potentially lethal obstacle. Fluffy was the gatekeeper. Cerberi were legendary guard dogs - and everyone knew it. Until Hagrid let slip - on Dumbledore's orders of course - how to get past it nobody could. Quirrell could study the other traps before his when he was taken down to care for the troll, but he too was watched during that time.  
And while the other traps were by no means easy to bypass, they were not nearly as dangerous.

The Devil's Snare would strangle anyone into unconsciousness, but as soon as they went limp they would just fall through onto the floor below, ready to be picked up.  
The Gordian Lock would not let anyone pass without the right key, but was harmless otherwise.  
Minerva's chess board would knock out anyone failing that challenge and the Headmaster had full confidence in the Professor's ability to moderate her creations response to the right level.  
The troll of course was Quirinius own obstacle and he would be easily able to handle it.  
The poisons likewise would only incapacitate and while the fire might burn anyone who drank the wrong vial, it wasn't a cursed fire.

In a way his own final obstacle was the most dangerous. Men had wasted away in front of the Mirror of Erised after all. If anyone truly fell under its spell it would require more than an overnight stay in the hospital wing.

The additional wards placed between the obstacles were likewise designed to hinder and should be just beyond Quirrell's capabilities. They were actually the incentive to lure the actual thief out.

Of course the moment anyone jumped through the trap door Dumbledore would be alarmed of the fact. The idea was after all to observe first and intervene later when their intentions were revealed by the Mirror.

Ideally the threat would be dealt with right then and there but at the very least they would gain some very valuable intelligence on a potential enemy.

Now how to properly convey to the T'Sonis the fact that he had thought this all through and that there truly was no specific danger to Harry.

It was probably best being as forthright as possible. He would need to concede that he had miscalculated but had since then taken steps to prevent further dangers to the students. He also needed to convince Harry's guardians that what he did was necessary.

He still mulled over the problem of what exactly to tell them after the fire outside had gone out, leaving the room bathed in only the dull red glow of the embers that had replaced the blazing fire in the office's fireplace.

* * *

"Welcome to Eternity, what can I get you?" Aethyta greeted the next customer, not really looking at her. Who would have known opening and running a club would be so stressful?

"I must say, I'm surprised. You left the Matriarchy for this?"

The voice brought the Matriarch up short. It was very familiar - although very few knew just how intimately familiar she was with it. The tone of that sweet, sweet voice, slightly mocking and confrontational, told her the current game the owner of said voice wanted to play.

"Funny. I thought you would be glad to see the back of me," she countered, actually going as far as physically turning her back to the other speaker, busying herself with washing some glasses.

"Oh, I was; although I have to admit I was more interested in your delightful rear. I always wanted to give it the good spanking it so rightly deserves."

Aethyta snorted. Sexual innuendo wasn't exactly uncommon even between political rivals - actually it was par for the course - but her current guest rarely was as crass. It suited Aethyta just fine though. "Confident much? Care to find out just who gets to do the spanking?"

"Promises, promises," the voice drawled, making Aethyta's lips curl into a smirk. "I might actually take you up on your offer. Later."

"So what brings the mighty Matriarch Benezia into my humble bar, except the potential spanking, of course," Aethyta finally turned back to the other Asari, getting her first real look of her longtime friend and secret bondmate. If anything the hundred years they had seen each other mostly from a distance had made her more beautiful and desirable. She had matured - as had Aethyta - obviously, her face slightly more lined, but what a rack!  
Motherhood clearly suited her.

It was clear that Benezia was here semi-incognito. She didn't wear an elaborate dress that drew attention to her status as a person of interest, rather she wore an elegant business suit. Of course, it being Asari fashion it still managed to be sexy and draw attention for entirely different reasons.

"Pure happenstance, I assure you, although now that we are both here, I might need to discuss something with you, in private. Sadly it will be about business and not more… pleasurable things."

"You know very well that my oldest handles business now. I'm retired," Aethyta countered. It was mostly the truth. The day to day business was handled by her oldest daughter, but Aethyta was still nominally in charge and would be until her death. "But since you are here, we might as well get it over with. Rea, take over for me, will you?"

With a final look around - easily picking out the other Matriarch's acolytes that served as bodyguards - Aethyta led the way into the staff area, Benezia following her closely. They didn't say anything as they entered an elevator and Aethyta swiped her omni-tool at the console and authenticating herself. As the elevator made its way up to the penthouse they still remained silent, knowing that it wasn't safe yet.

With the universal ding of an elevator arriving at its destination the doors finally opened, revealing a small reception area. Aethyta quickly traversed it, letting the various scanners do their work of identifying any bugs and other things that might have been on her or Benezia, and pushed the double-winged glass doors to her personal appartement open.

Benezia who was still silently following her wasn't prepared to be suddenly slammed against the wall and held there. Before she could protest Aethyta had advanced on her and kissed her, hard.  
It didn't take Benezia any time at all to respond.

After several moments they broke apart, lips bruised.

"Want to explain why the fuck you showed up now of all times?" Aethyta growled. She was angry at Benezia waltzing into her life again, but damn her if she didn't want her back. Why did everything have to be so complicated. Drama was for maidens; they were matriarchs, for goddess' sake.

"I want you back," was Benezia's simple, defiant answer. And it really was that simple, Aethyta decided.

"Aw, fuck it," she growled, rushing forward for another kiss, fumbling with the buttons on Benezia's dress, finally just ripping it open.

Technically they hadn't fought over the need of the separation. Neither had liked it and while it was ultimately Benezia who decided to keep their relationship and Liara's parentage secret, Aethyta hadn't offered a workable alternative either, acknowledging the need for it.  
Didn't mean they couldn't enjoy some rough makeup sex anyway - and Aethyta was really looking forward to give her bondmate those promised spankings. She had a hundred years of pent up sexual frustration to work through after all.  
Talking could wait for tomorrow.

Spinning around she frogmarched them towards the bed, only stopping occasionally to divest her new-old-lover of some other piece of clothing. Benezia was now struggling for dominance, but Aethyta didn't mind. It didn't really matter who came out on top of their little dance and she wasn't in the mood for tender lovemaking anyway.

Suddenly Aethyta was picked up by a biotic force and propelled the final steps towards the bed. Somehow her clothes fell off her - Benezia had always had an amazing control over her biotics, the still flying Asari thought with amazement - leaving her in only her panties.

Her arse had barely hit the mattress before Benezia straddled her. With a deft motion she unhooked the strap below her breasts that held them in place with mass effect fields and Aethyta gave a small sigh of pleasure as the slight pressure vanished.

For a moment she allowed the other Asari to remain in control, to fondle and lick, but soon she was growing impatient. Aethyta didn't want a long drawn-out foreplay.

A few strategic rips and tears and they were both completely naked. Benezia seemed to not have noticed, as she was completely surprised when Aethyta took control again, spinning them around while grabbing her lover's hands and pinning them above her head.

Lying atop her victim, who squired delightfully, Aethyta pressed as close as possible, the full body contact intoxicating after so long. A kiss and a nip at her bondmates neck before she brought her mouth close to Benezia's ear to whisper huskily, "Are you ready to meet eternity?"

Benezia whimpered in response and when Aethyta draw back slightly to look at her, she saw the usually cool and collected Matriarch's eyes had already turned black in lust. Giving in, she let her own emotions follow, her eyes turning equally black.

"Then embrace it with me."

* * *

**AN: **Well, that turned out longer than expected...

A few concluding thoughts.  
Dumbledore doesn't know about Harry the Horcrux. He doesn't have the clues to figure it out yet. While he still suspects that there's going to be a confrontation between Harry and Voldemort, the way I interpret it from canon he believes it will happen years in the future and doesn't necessarily mean Harry's death. In fact, Dumbledore very much wants him to survive.

I see first year as Dumbledore going out of his comfort zone and being proactive. He somehow realizes that there's a new threat (he might suspect it's Voldemort, but at this point he can't know it) and decides - unlike with Grindelwald and Voldemort - that he should do something about it before there's another war.  
He doesn't do a very good job of it, does he?

It's unclear when exactly he realizes that it's Voldemort, but likely because of the unicorn. It might even be the centaurs who confirm it for him.

Seems like Benezia and Aethyta are back together. I'm really looking forward to exploring how that will affect the story.


End file.
